


The Scavenger

by SouthSideStory



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6187171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthSideStory/pseuds/SouthSideStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey has been waiting for so long to be wanted by whoever left her behind that the idea of turning him away is unfathomable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scavenger

Rey hears stormtroopers around the corner, a half-dozen soldiers or more, and she hurries along the corridor. Light-footed, swift, cautious. A small hallway branches off to the right, a hiding place she can dart into to get away from the bucketheads coming up behind her. She makes the turn without looking, too desperate to escape the encroaching stormtroopers to notice that she’s running from a lesser danger into a greater one.

She nearly collides with Kylo Ren, and a heartbeat later he has her pinned against the wall, a gloved hand covering her mouth. She should fight him, she knows that, but for a moment Rey is too stunned to see him to struggle. This man who’s been so much on her mind for months. Haunting her dreams, resurfacing in memories long buried. Since Master Luke told her the truth, how many times has she thought of the boy named Ben? The half-child who spared her life, then left her to rot on Jakku. Such compassion. Such cruelty.

It isn’t Ben who holds her now, though. That boy is long gone, buried beneath a false name and too many crimes to count. Kylo Ren is the one whose hand is clamped over her mouth, whose body presses hers against the durasteel wall. Rey closes her eyes, listens to the sound of the patrolling stormtroopers pass by. Once they’re gone, she looks up at Kylo. The man in the mask.

He’s so close that she can feel the heat of him, even through the thick layers of their clothes, and Rey blushes. Kylo slides a hand between them, to the belt at her waist, and for a moment she thinks he means to touch her under her clothes. The idea of it sends a thrill through her, half fright and half something else—some nebulous arousal that Rey doesn’t want to examine. But instead of touching her, he grabs her saberstaff and pockets it.

Kylo steps back, takes her by the arm, and leads her down the narrow hall, around a corner, then another, and through a door to a spartan bedroom. Everything is colored in shades of charcoal and black, and the place is so neat that it looks like a service droid lives there.

“Is this your room?” Rey asks.

He ignores her question and asks one of his own: “What are you doing here, scavenger?”

“I have a name,” she says coolly. “Use it.”

“What are you doing here?” he says again, this time more slowly and forcefully. He’s still holding onto her arm, his grip firmer now.

“I could ask you the same thing. All of our intel suggested that you wouldn’t be aboard the _Finalizer_.”

“It’s none of your business why I’m here,” Kylo says. “If you don’t answer me—”

“You’ll what?” Rey gestures to the lightsaber at his belt. “Strike me down?”

He stiffens, says nothing, and his grasp on her weakens.

“You won’t hurt me,” she says, heart beating hard beneath her breast. “You couldn’t do it fifteen years ago, and you can’t do it now.”

“Luke told you,” he says, and even through the static interference of the voice modulator, she can hear his fear.

“He did,” she says. Rey reaches up, touches the cold durasteel of his mask with the tips of her fingers. Kylo flinches away, as if he can feel her.

“Why?” she asks. “Why did you spare me?”

Rey spent so long imagining the family that must have left her behind on Jakku. The people who would come back for her someday. So many years wasted, ticking off days on the metal carcass of her rusting, makeshift home. And all the while, it was this man she waited for.

He doesn’t respond, so Rey answers for him. “I think you must have loved me, once,” she says. “You couldn’t bear to kill me, or hand me over to Snoke. So you left me on Jakku, where you thought no one would ever find me.”

Kylo doesn’t correct her.

She drops her hand from his masked face to his throat, tugs down the high collar of his shirt, and touches the skin beneath. Proof of his humanity, warm under her fingers.

“Rey,” Kylo says, and how broken he sounds, how pleading.

She searches out his pulse point, caresses it with her thumb. Why he’s allowing her to take advantage of their proximity, to be so familiar with his body, she can’t imagine, but it makes Rey feel powerful and needed, and for a girl who’s spent her life alone, it’s a beautiful, intoxicating sensation.

“I think I might have loved you too,” she whispers.

Rey is off of her feet before she registers that he’s picking her up, bridal style, and carrying her to the bed. He lays her on the mattress with surprising gentleness, then pushes her onto her back. Climbs up after her, kneeling between her legs.

She knows what he means to do, and maybe she should tell him no, but she doesn’t. Rey has been waiting for so long to be wanted by whoever left her behind that the idea of turning him away is unfathomable. Besides, even before she knew the truth, she’d thought of having him like this. In her most private moments she has touched herself and wished that the enemy who hunted her across the galaxy was fucking her. Sometimes Rey pictured him naked, that handsome face of his twisted in pleasure, the strong body she’s never seen bare before working on top of her. And sometimes her imaginings were even more shameful: she thought of him fucking her with his face and most of his body covered, masked and clad in black, every inch the villain of her memories.

Now he’s here, kneeling before her, his large hands on her body. Kylo makes no move to undress her, but he grasps her shoulders, runs his hands down her chest, her stomach, rounds over her hips, grips her thighs. “Tell me to stop,” he says, and what does it say of her that she hungers for that sound? That his deep voice, inhumanly mechanical and yet masculine, makes her so wet she can barely stand it?

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, and he sounds almost angry. But even as he says this, he’s tugging at the fastenings of her pants, dragging them down her legs. She pulls her shirt over her head, takes her breast-band from her chest. Maybe she ought to be nervous to bare herself before him, but Rey has never been self-conscious about her body, and she doesn’t intend to start now.

Kylo rips her underwear in his eagerness to get them off of her, and then he’s touching her between her legs, two blunt, leather-clad fingers thrusting into her sex, filling her. Rey cries out, bucks up against his hand. Even with the material of his gloves between them, it feels so impossibly sweet to have some part of him inside of her.

He fucks her with his fingers, pumps them in and out of her until she’s on edge, so close to coming already that it’s almost embarrassing, how quickly and easily he’s made this mess of her.

“Kylo,” she whimpers, sounding so needy, nearly pitiful.

He withdraws his fingers, and she makes a frustrated noise at the loss of contact, but then he’s unfastening his pants and pulling his cock free. Kylo moves to settle on top of her, and Rey asks, “Are you going to take off your mask?”

He stops, tilts his head to the side, and she can tell he’s reading her. “I don’t think you want me to,” he says, and there’s no questioning in his voice. All arrogance, the kind of excessive pride that should disgust her.

Rey spreads her legs wider, inviting him without words.

He guides his cock to her sex, then supports himself with his arms braced on either side of her. He’s so much taller than her that Rey finds her face tucked against the crook of his neck. She kisses the hard curve of his shoulder as he thrusts into her, so slowly and gently that he must be afraid to hurt her.

“It’s all right,” Rey says. “I’ve done this before.”

Maybe because she’s not quite twenty, it seems he expected her to be inexperienced.

So what if she isn’t a virgin? She slept with a boy on Jakku three years ago, and if that disappoints Kylo then that’s simply too bad.

He doesn’t seem bothered by this, though, and now he’s fucking her harder, like she always imagined. Each rough thrust sends a shock of pleasure through her, almost painful in its intensity. Rey wraps her legs around him, meeting him movement for movement, and she can’t help but kiss whatever of him she can reach. It’s almost frustrating when her lips come into contact with the fabric of his black shirt, when what she needs is to taste his skin, but the reminder that he’s having her this way—masked and mostly clothed—only makes her want him more.

The feeling of his cock is almost too much, stretching her so full, and yet it isn’t enough. Rey reaches between them and touches herself, her fingers rubbing quick circles on her sex. Kylo says her name, and the distorted sound of it, filtered through the modulator, has her moaning and shivering, right on the edge.

“You enjoy that, don’t you?” he asks. “Hearing my voice like this.”

It would shame her to be found out, for Kylo to discover the pleasure she takes in his inhumanity, if she wasn’t so close to coming. Just another thrust, another flick of her fingers, and she’ll be there—

He stops moving, pulls out of her, and she shouts, unfulfillment and anger fueling the cry. “What are you doing?” Rey asks.

Kylo sits up on his knees, and with an impatient hiss, he frees himself of his helmet and throws it to the floor. His hair is sweaty, his dark eyes bright. The scar she gave him stands out on his fair skin, a livid red, and the harsh sound he makes when he climbs back on top of her is startlingly similar to the grunts of pain he made when they dueled. He kisses her, that full mouth of his working on hers roughly, his tongue tasting hers messily, with more passion than finesse.

He pushes his cock back inside of her, thrusts so sloppily and unevenly that he must be as close to a climax as she is. “Say my name,” he says, and the undiluted sound of his deep voice is so enthralling that Rey answers eagerly.

“Kylo,” she says.

“No, my real name,” he orders, but the commandment is colored by a shyness that almost hurts to hear.

“Ben, _please_ ,” she whispers.

She comes with his name still on her lips, shaking as the pleasure rocks through her, powerful waves of it that bring tears to her eyes. As she whimpers out the last of her release, Rey watches his beautiful, scarred face twist, feels him pounding into her without rhythm. Until he’s shivering, crying out a curse, some broken, vulgar word as he fucks her into the bed, hard and ruthless.

Then he collapses on top of her, his weight almost crushing. When she gasps he must realize this, because he pulls himself off of her and falls on his back by her side.

They lie this way, both breathless and suddenly unable to look at each other, for long moments. Then he sits up, puts his head in his hands, and grips his hair with violent fists.

Rey touches his shoulder gently and asks, “Ben? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t,” he says. “I shouldn’t have told you to call me that. We shouldn’t have done this.”

He fixes his clothes with trembling hands and turns to her. “Whatever we used to be, we’re enemies now. Fucking you isn’t going to make me forget that,” he says.

This would probably offend her if he didn’t look so much like he was trying to convince himself. If his eyes weren’t flickering up and down her naked body, lingering on her bare breasts, her muscled stomach.

“Isn’t it?” Rey asks, and she draws on some confidence to spread her legs. He glances at the wet mess of his come that he left there and shudders.

Kylo looks away, blushing furiously. “You need to go,” he says. “Get off this ship and go back home.”

Rey hops off the bed and dresses. She’s fastening her breast-band around her chest when she says, casual, “I can’t leave. I haven’t killed my target yet.”

“You’re on an assassination mission?” Kylo asks.  

Rey pulls her shirt over her head. “It’s no mission at all. I don’t have any orders from anyone. This is my own doing.”

“And who are you so set on eliminating?” he asks.

She shouldn’t tell him, of course, but Kylo will either try to stop her or he won’t. Naming her target isn’t going to change that.

“General Hux,” Rey says. “Really, you shouldn’t have to ask. The man destroyed a system. If anyone deserves death, it’s him.”

Kylo steps closer to her, touches her chin, and tilts her face up so that he can examine her. “Deciding who deserves to live and die now, are you? That’s a dangerous line of thinking for a Jedi.” He smirks, the smile so subtle that she nearly misses it. “I ought to know.”

“I’m no Jedi,” Rey says, and she can see that that surprises him.

“Well that makes two of us,” Kylo says. He’s looking at her lips instead of her eyes now, and Rey knows instinctively that he’s thinking of kissing her. She hopes that he allows himself this weakness—a small indulgence compared to what they’ve already done—but he only hands her the saberstaff he took earlier.

“Hux is never alone,” Kylo warns. “You’ll have to kill other officers to get to him. Are you sure you can do that?”

“I’ll spare who I can, but anyone who protects him is my enemy,” Rey says, as she tests the light weight of her saberstaff. “I suppose that doesn’t include you. Today anyway.”

Kylo retrieves his helmet and puts it back on. His face is soon covered once more, and his voice is encumbered by the static filtration of the modulator when he speaks. “Don’t mistake this kindness for weakness. I despise Hux and everything he stands for. His vision for the galaxy is skewed, and his methods are that of a spoiled child used to taking everything he wants. I’d have killed him years ago if I could have gotten away with it. So, really, you’re doing me a favor.”

“You told me to leave before you knew my intentions,” Rey says. She approaches him, touches his gloved hand. “You were going to let me go. For a second time.”

Before he can answer, Rey stands up on the tips of her toes and kisses the cold metal of his masked cheek. “I’ll see you again,” she promises.

**Author's Note:**

> It seems I have reached a new low, beginning a story with such shameless kinky sex. ;) I entirely blame ReyloTrashCompactor, my partner in crime, for my obsession with mask!on smut. Also, thank you, dear, for being the best beta a girl could ask for! 
> 
> This work is a sequel to A Boy Named Ben, but it isn't necessary to have read that story to understand this one.


End file.
